


don't click on this fic pls

by omfg_otp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Don't Read This, For the love of God, M/M, and i'm posting it b/c my followers on tumblr are demading it, basically i wrote this when i was 16 so like 7 years ago and it's TERRIBLE, i'm cringing so hard right now, i'm warning you now it's NOT GOOD, listen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omfg_otp/pseuds/omfg_otp
Summary: really not worth your time to read, move on, i beg





	don't click on this fic pls

**Author's Note:**

> like the tags say, i'm only posting this cos tumblr made me. it's god awful. this is NOT my current skill level at writing so pls just,,,,, humor me

Stiles’ red sweater was one of his most prized possession, along with his Laptop and Jeep. He wore it every week with some combination of T-shirt and jeans.  
  
It was the most comfortable sweater in the world. The sleeves covered his hands if the wind rolled up his elbows. It was just a bit too big for him enough so that he could wrap it around himself snuggly but not so big that he drowned in it. It also happened to have exceedingly soft lining it felt like it was made from clouds.  
  
The reason why he loved his sweater so much is because it belonged to his Mom. He didn't really own much that used to belong to her. A year after she died the grief counsellor at school had suggested throwing some of her more meaningless stuff out. But Stiles couldn't really bring himself to get rid of her favourite sweater and neither had his dad. So he kept it.  
  
  
At first, he only really wore it when thinking about her, or when he was sad. But that quickly evolved into wearing it whilst studying or reading. Now it was unusual to find him home and not wearing it, except when it was in the wash. It was a rare, though, for him to wear it outside.  
  
Now was an exception. He was standing in the middle of the Beacon Hills preserve, wearing his favourite sweater, and a furious expression on his face. This was all Scott’s fault. His best friend had insisted that this year, they were both going to make the lacrosse team and actually play for once. Stiles didn't have the same belief, but what sort of best friend would he be if he denied Scott? Which is why he was standing in the middle of the ever darkening forest, with no idea where he was.  
  
He was lost, in the forest at sunset, with no bearings, no signal, and no hope of getting home before his curfew, let alone before tomorrow morning.  
  
Living in Beacon Hills, with forests surrounding the whole area, everyone sort of knew what to do if you got lost. Get to higher ground, if not stay where you are and hope for the best.  
  
Stiles was standing on a slope that steadily inclined upwards, so he started walking up. He briefly thought about how Scott was nearby and decided to call his name.  
  
“Scott? Scotty?! Where are you man?” No response. It was to be expected. Scott probably got back to the Jeep without even realising Stiles was missing. When he did, he would go straight to the Sheriff, so there was hope.  
  
Stiles kept walking, checking his phone for signal, calling Scott’s name every few minutes just incase.  
  
He got to the top of the hill after about half an hour walking. Looking around, he found the trees looked exactly the same as the ones everywhere else. Still no clues as to where he was.  
  
He sighed and flops down against a tree, giving up hope. There was no way he was going to get out of here on his own. He should find shelter, he should find water, he should…  
  
CRACK  
  
Stiles jumped awake, snapping his eyes open at the sound in the forest, but he could barely see anything. The sun had set entirely, and a full moon hung in the sky. Stiles looked at his phone, and found the battery had died. There was no way of knowing how long he had slept, and he couldn't even use his phone as a flashlight.  
  
CRACK  
  
The second twig snapping alerted him to the danger he was actually in. There was something out there. He desperately wanted to call out, to see if it was Scott, or his dad, but if it was, Stiles would've seen a flashlight. He also didn't want whatever was out there to know his location.  
  
In his head, he was making a list of everything it could be. It probably wasn't a bear, because it would be making more noise. A coyote was more likely, but they were scavengers, and didn't usually go after live prey. Mountain line was also a possibility. Stiles stopped breathing at the thought. It could just as likely be a raccoon, he tried to reassure himself.  
  
Then he saw the eyes. They looked like they were floating in the dark between the trees. They were bright blue.  
  
That gave him pause for a moment. What sort of animal had fluorescent blue eyes? Stiles’ heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest. So this is how he's going to die? Animal attack? How cliche.  
  
The eyes blinked at him, and he gulped. He went somewhere looking into an animal's eyes was considered a challenge to them, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. Those eyes didn't look menacing, they looked… sad.  
  
Stiles didn’t know how long he sat there, staring into those eyes. He let out a squeak surprise when they started to come closer. The animal came into his line of sight. A wolf?  
  
There hadn't been wolves in California for 100 years! And Stiles just happened to stumble across one. That was just his luck.  
  
The wolf hadn't stopped walking towards him. Blue eyes even more prominent against it’s pitch black fur.  
  
Stiles pressed himself right back against the tree he was leaning on, trying to get as far away from the animal possible. He knew it was futile to run, maybe even worse than staying still. The wolf was only a few metres away now, and styles closed his eyes, bracing himself for the attack that was sure to come.  
  
But it didn't.  
  
He felt a puff of air on his face, and opened his eyes to find the wolf up close and personal, sniffing all over his face and hair. Okay, so maybe the wolf liked to smell his dinner before eating.  
  
The wolf finished sniffing him, and sat down, making no effort to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth.  
  
“You know,” Stiles said, voice cracking. “I’d prefer you just kill me quickly, instead of drawing this out.”  
  
The wolf growled and huffed at the same time. It was a weird sound, almost like an annoyed laugh. Which is absurd, since wolves didn’t laugh.  
  
The wolf nudged Stiles’ hand with his nose, almost as if he wanted Stiles to pet him. Stiles was so confused by this point, he was beginning to think he was still asleep. Or dead.  
  
Stiles didn't claim to be any sort of animal expert, but he didn't think the wolf would hurt him. The wasn't any proof that made him come to this conclusion, he just… felt it somehow. Maybe it was those bright blue eyes stare into his. Maybe it was the way the wolf moved, like he was tame or something.  
  
Stiles didn't think that tame was the right word, but it was as close as he could get to describing the situation.  
  
Stiles lifted his hand to pet the animal, and he seemed to like it. The wolf closed his eyes, leaning into the touch.  
  
“Okay,” Stiles said with a shaky voice, “so maybe you're not going to hurt me.”  
  
The wolf grunted in response and lay his head in Stiles’ lap.  
  
They stayed like that for awhile, Stiles stroking the wolf. It was an incredibly surreal experience. He had the feeling that this didn't happen often.  
  
The night started to get colder, and Stiles shivered. He became more and more grateful that the wolf was here, as his body temperature was the only thing keeping Stiles warm. The wolf noticed his discomfort, as his shivering became more violent. He sat up again and looked at Stiles, wining slightly.  
  
“Yeah, I’m freezing.” Stiles said, answering the unspoken question, and wait what? Wolves don’t ask questions. Wolves don’t let random humans pet them. Wolves don’t have bright blue eyes. Wolves shouldn’t even be in the part of the world.  
  
“Am I dead?” Stiles asked the wolf, “or dreaming? Maybe I’m hallucinating b-because of the cold.”  
  
The wolf huffed, and rolled his eyes which, okay, now Stiles is sure this must be some kind of dream.  
  
“You can understand what I’m saying.” Stiles told the wolf in awe. The wolf didn’t confirm or deny his theory , but did lean forward and grab Stiles’ beloved red sweater by the sleeve with his teeth, and tugged on it hard.  
  
“Hey!” Stiles said, trying to push the wolf away, not wanting it to tear. The wolf let go, but gave an unhappy sounding bark. “This was my mom’s,” Stiles’ explained, “and I’d like to keep it in one piece.”  
  
The wolf huffed, and started to pull Stiles by the jeans instead. Stiles took the hint, and stood up. The wolf ran around Stiles in a circle, before trotting off into the forest, clearly intending for Stiles to follow.  
  
“You better be taking me some place warm!” He called out, before following the animal into the trees.  
  
They walked for what seemed like hours, but Stiles thought he was exaggerating because of his near-hypothermic state. He tried asking the wolf where they were going, but the wolf didn’t even turn around. He seemed to sense how urgently Stiles needed to get warm.  
  
Stiles was just starting to stumble when he saw the house in-between the trees. It was huge, like a mansion. It had three floors, and a large porch with steps leading to the front door, which was wide open.  
  
“This is the Hale house.” he told the wolf standing beside him. The wolf started to push him towards the entrance. “I really don’t think they would appreciate us invading their home.”  
  
The wolf growled slightly, and pushed Stiles harder. Stiles was freezing, and tired, and he could practically feel the heat radiating out of the front door. Who was he to turn that down?  
  
So, he let the wolf push him inside.  
  
Stiles sighed as he felt the heat wash over him. He had never been inside the Hale house before, but everyone in town knew them. They were an extremely wealthy and influential family, Talia Hale being one of the best lawyers in the state. Because of this, his dad worked with her quite frequently, and Stiles himself had met all the Hales at some point. Cora Hale was even in his class at school. But it still made him uncomfortable trespassing in their home.  
  
He turned to the wolf to tell him as much, but he took off, leaping up the staircase in front of them. Stiles swore under his breath and followed, thinking this was an extremely bad idea, and it was probably going to end with someone being mauled in their bed.  
  
The wolf ran into one of the bedrooms, and Stiles prepared himself for the screams that were sure to follow. But everything stayed quiet.  
  
Curious, Stiles crept into the room, and flicked on the light. The wolf had jumped onto the bed, and was laying down, looking at him. Stiles slowly walked into the room, looking around.  
  
It seemed cosy and well-lived in. There was a bookshelf along the back wall, and a desk in front of the window full of papers. There were also photographs hung up around the walls.  
  
Stiles decided if he wasn’t caught by morning, he’d do a bit of snooping to see whose room this was, but right now, Stiles needed to sleep. He walked to the bed and flopped down, curling up into a ball. He vaguely register the wolf settling in behind him, before he drifted off to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
Stiles woke up feeling extremely well rested. He let out a small groan and snuggled back into the warm arms that were wrapped around his waist. Wait, what?  
  
Arms. Not paws.  
  
He scrambled away as fast as he could, falling off the bed and onto the floor. He cursed under his breath and rubbed the back of his head.  
  
“Are you okay?” A rumbling voice asked from the bed, and Stiles glanced up to find Derek Hale looking back him with sleepy, yet concerned eyes.  
  
Derek Hale?  
  
Everything that happened yesterday came flooding back. He was in the Hale house. This must be Derek’s room. But where the hell was the wolf? Why had Derek decided to cuddle him instead of calling the police?  
  
“Stiles?” Derek asked when he didn't reply, “what’s wrong?”  
  
Derek knew his name. Derek, the hottest guy he'd ever seen, and his crush for over three years, remembered who he was.  
  
“I - um… I-“ Stiles tried to say something, but for the first time in his life words escaped him. Derek seemed to snap out of his sleepy haze. His eyes widened comically as he processed what was happening.  
  
Styles jumped up suddenly, needing to get out of there.  
  
“I'm so sorry, dude. I didn't mean to stay here or anything but I was lost, and there was this wolf,” Stiles backed towards the door, as Derek stood from the bed. “And of course you don't believe me, and you're probably going to call the police, but my dad will kill me and–“  
  
“Stiles,” Derek said, interrupting his babbling, “it's okay.”  
  
“It's… okay?” Stiles repeated because, what?  
  
Derek nodded looking around, like he didn't really know what to say. Which was fair enough.  
  
“Dude, it's really not,” Stiles told him, “I invaded your home, and slept on your bed and-“  
  
“You didn't invade,” Derek told him, “I let you in.”  
  
Stiles shook his head, “no, I remember it was definitely a wolf that-” he trailed off when Derek’s eyes flashed blue, just like the wolf’s.  
  
Stiles stared at Derek, trying to process what he was seeing. Derek’s eyes looked exactly like the wolf’s. Derek said he let Stiles into the house. Stiles had woken up with Derek's arms around him, not the wolf’s paws. Derek… was the wolf.  
  
“Oh my god.” Stiles said softly at the realisation.  
  
“Please don't freak out?” Derek asked hands held in front of him like he was approaching a wild animal. Which was ironic really.  
  
“I… I-” Fuck. Stiles really didn't know what to say. “I don't know what to say.”  
  
“You're not scared?” Derek asked, looking confused.  
  
“No,” Stiles shook his head, “why would I be? You saved my life!”  
  
Derek looked uncomfortable at the proclamation. “I really don't think–“  
  
“Dude, I would have frozen to death without you.”  
  
“Oh,” there was an awkward silence where he and Derek stared at each other.  
  
“Fucking werewolves?!” Stiles shrieked suddenly. What the actual fuck? This wasn't Twilight, these things weren't supposed to exist.  
  
“Stiles, would you please calm down?” Derek asked, trying not to look annoyed.  
  
“Calm down, calm down?” Stiles muttered to himself and started pacing. He needed to calm down. He was in a fucking werewolves’ den, and Derek's family–  
  
“What about your family?”  
  
“They’re werewolves too.”  
  
–Derek's family were also werewolves, so that's at least five werewolves in the house who could probably hear him-  
  
“Do you have super senses?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
–they could definitely hear him, including his massive freak out, and oh God, he knew their secret now, what if he wasn't allowed to know their secret, what if they-  
  
“Are you going to kill me?”  
  
Derek looked shocked at the question. “Why would I want to kill you?”  
  
“Because I know your secret.”  
  
Derek rolled his eyes. “If I didn't want you to know our secret, I would have taken you back to your car, granted I wasn't totally in control at the time-”  
  
“What?” Stiles asked, “so you could've mauled me to death?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Explain.”  
  
Derek let out a frustrated sigh, “I can control the wolf,” he explained, “but I rely heavily on instinct when I'm in that form, and it was my instinct to protect you.”  
  
Stiles nodded and was silent again. After a beat, Derek headed over to the desk and took a picture off the wall. He gave it to Stiles, who look at it with wide eyes.  
  
The picture was of a pack of wolves. There were nine in total, fur ranging from pitch black to light grey. They were beautiful. Stiles scanned the picture for Derek, finding the black wolf sitting next to a grey wolf with a white belly. Stiles look up, a massive grin on his face.  
  
“This is your family?” he asked Derek, who was staring at him fondly.  
  
“Yes, but we call ourselves a pack.”  
  
“Really? That's awesome!” Stiles exclaimed. He'd done a ninth-grade project on wolves, so maybe some of that stuff was the same as a werewolf pack?  
  
“Do you have an alpha?”  
  
Derek looked momentarily stunned at the question, but nodded anyway.  
  
“My mom is our alpha. The rest of us are her betas.”  
  
“Are there any humans in your pack?” It was a logical thought, because someone had to have taken the photograph.  
  
“My dad is human.” Derek replied, “though the doesn’t have to be.” Stiles looked at him quizzically, “The bite of an alpha can turn a human.” Derek continued, “but all my family are born wolves.”  
  
Stiles nodded, itching to ask why Derek’s dad refused becoming a werewolf. It was probably a very personal question, and Stiles wasn’t an expert in werewolf etiquette. Come to think of it, all the questions he’s asked have been pretty personal.  
  
“Why are you telling me all of this? Stiles asked, putting down the picture and looking at Derek. “Why do you trust me so much?”  
  
Derek looked more uncomfortable at this question than any of the others. Just before answering though, he cocked his head to the side as if listening to something far away, which Stiles realised, he probably was. It was an oddly canine gesture that shouldn’t have amused Stiles as much as it did.  
  
“My mother says breakfast is ready.” Derek told him, not even trying to hide his relief at dodging the question.  
  
“So you’re not kicking me out yet?”  
  
“No, Stiles.” Derek said wryly, “my mother wants to speak with you about a few things.”  
  
Stiles realised just then that it was an alpha werewolf that wanted to talk to him, and a wave of nervousness hit him. Derek led him out of the room, down the staircase, and into the kitchen.  
  
Talia Hale was sitting at the breakfast table, with a mug in her hands. She smiled warmly at him, and he was suddenly reminded this was the woman his father worked with, and who brought them a homemade lasagne after his mom’s funeral.  
  
He relaxed a little, letting go of the nervousness and unease.  
  
“Good morning boys,” she said simply, “help yourself to bacon and eggs, everyone else has eaten. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be in my study.” She looked at Derek, who nodded, then left the room.  
  
Derek silently got plates and cutlery, gesturing for Stiles to sit down. As he did so, Derek served them each a plate of bacon and eggs, and began to eat. Stiles got the feeling Derek was a quiet person, and normally didn’t say much. He shrugged it off though, and followed Derek’s lead, shovelling food into his mouth. When they were both done, he leant back with a contented sigh.  
  
“That was really good,” He said, smiling at Derek. The werewolf gave a small twitch of his mouth in return, and collected their plates to wash. Stiles, being his mother’s son, got up immediately to help Derek, plucking a drying towel from the counter. They working together to clean and dry the plates, accidentally nudging each other occasionally, until they were back in their respective cupboards.  
  
“So…” Stiles said, rocking backwards on his heals. Derek rolled his eyes.  
  
“She’s not as scary as you think,” he told Stiles, and dragged him towards to study. And, Stiles thought, certain doom.  
  
The office looked a lot like his dad’s study at home. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed full of academic texts. There was a big desk in the middle of the room, in front of a big bay window overlooking the garden and the forest beyond. Thalia Hale sat behind the desk, reading what appeared to be one of her court cases. She looked up when they walked into the room, and smiled warmly.  
  
“Take a seat boys.” She told them, putting aside her work. They did what she said, Stiles’ heart fluttering nervously. “Stiles, calm down, I’m not going to bite.” She grinned at him wolfishly.  
  
Stiles’ eyes widened, heart stuttering in his chest.  
  
“Mom!” Derek hissed, flushing slightly. Stiles couldn’t help thinking that was more than a little cute. Talia just chuckled and shook her head.  
  
“I’m being serious though,” She said, “Derek told you people get turned by receiving The Bite,” Stiles could hear the capitalisation. “but I would never do that without consent.”  
  
Stiles met her gaze steadily, and nodded, showing he understood.  
  
“Okay, second thing you have to know is that you’re not in danger here, or around anybody in the pack.” She sounded serious, so Stiles nodded again. “We aren’t the monsters the movies make us out to be. We have control over our wolves, though some instincts can override that.” She finished dryly, looking at Derek. He blushed again, not looking at Stiles. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” she continued. The understatement of the century, Stiles thought.  
  
Talia got up and walked to one of the bookshelves to get a leather-bound book.  
  
“Mom?” Derek asked when she slid it over the desk to Stiles. “Are you sure-“  
  
“Of course Derek.” she replied, “Stiles, I should probably explain. This book is basically our version of “werewolves: for dummies”. It has everything you need to know about being a werewolf, as well as centuries of Hale pack history. I would normally give this book to a new werewolf in out pack, but i think it will serve it’s purpose here.” She smiles kindly as he flicked through the book.  
  
It was a mishmash of everything, some of it was handwritten, some typed. There were diagrams, and drawings, and generally it was a bit of an organised mess. It suited Stiles fine. He glanced up to find both Hales looking at him intently. He had noticed that same look on Cora as well at school. He wondered if it was a werewolf thing, or a Hale thing.  
  
“I can’t help but feel this is a big deal.” He told them honestly. Talia chuckled lightly.  
  
“You have good instincts.” she said, “and you’re not wrong. Read the book, bring it back, and we’ll talk, okay?”  
  
Stiles nodded and got up, feeling like he was dismissed.  
  
“And Stiles?” She said, as him and Derek were leaving, “be careful with it.”  
  
“Of course,” he said easily, and he would. He couldn’t help thinking about how much of a responsibility this was. This was hundreds of years of Hale family- Hale Pack history, written down and passed on from generation to generation. And now it was given to him.  
  
“I’ll take you home,” Derek said softly, and Stiles looked up from the book to find Derek looking at him. He grinned at the werewolf.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
The human and the werewolf made their way outside, towards Derek’s shiny black Camaro.  
  
“Dude, nice car.” Stiles complimented as he slid in.  
  
“It’s better than a Jeep, that’s for sure.” the werewolf sassed, and Stiles gaped at him. Derek flashed him a wolfish grin, and started the car.  
  
“Don’t diss Roscoe,” Stiles told him sternly, “that Jeep is the best car ever. Better than a shiny sports car, that probably needs replacement suspension every year because of all the off roading it does.”  
  
Derek laughed, but didn’t reply, driving towards town.  
  
They got to Stiles’ house, and Derek killed the engine, but neither of them made a move to get out of the car. The sheriff’s patrol car was in the drive, and Stiles suddenly felt very guilty about how much worry's dad would’ve gone through, probably looking for him all night.  
  
“Well, I can’t say this wasn’t an enlightening experience.” Stiles said, breaking the silence. He opened the door, and was just about to get out, when Derek stopped him.  
  
“See you soon?” Derek asked, sounding surprisingly vulnerable. Stiles’ stomach flipped.  
  
“Sure dude,” He smiled, getting out of the car, “see you later.”  
  
He slammed the door shit, and made his way into the house. When he was inside, his dad yelled for him from the lounge.  
  
“Hi dad.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
“Stiles.” His dad replied, not sounding too angry.  
  
“I’m really sorry about disappearing, except, it wasn’t really my fault, I mean, Scott ran off, and I has no idea where I was and-“  
  
“Stiles, it’s fine. Mrs Hale told me everything.”  
  
Stiles froze for a second.  
  
“Everything?”  
“Yeah, I mean, you feel asleep. It happens. Just don’t do it again, okay?”  
  
“Yep, sure.” Stiles nodded his head enthusiastically, “never again, no problem.”  
  
“Good,” the Sheriff replied, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you later.”  
  
Stiles waved him off, and signed wearily. He collapsed on the sofa, wondering if he would ever not make his dad worry.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: ppl are saying that this fic isn't actually that bad, and i guess in terms of plot or smt it could be considered alright, but when i say i cringe at it, i mean in terms of my actual writing. like, my style has moved on leaps and bounds from when i wrote this. i have a wider vocabulary, i used different sentence structures and writing techniques. I guess it's a lot easier for me to see the difference b/c i know i would change like 90% of the sentences in this fic if i were to rewrite it.
> 
> but !! thank u to the ppl who genuinely enjoyed it, i'm glad 16 yr old me could make u happy!


End file.
